


The beach is an Awful, No Good, Terrible Place

by VitriolicAussie



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, i just know i had fun writing it, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitriolicAussie/pseuds/VitriolicAussie
Summary: Robbie's about as weak as he is lazy.AKA not very when given the right incentive.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatIsThisWhyDoILoveIt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatIsThisWhyDoILoveIt/gifts).



> Inspired by their post on tumblr, which said,
> 
> "I like to think maybe Robbie has some strength to his frame from messing around with so many metal parts and dragging around giant canons and everything else he does that in a moment of emergency he just picks up Sportakook (bridal or over his shoulder, either way) and runs for dear life instead of Sportanerd grabbing him and everyone is confused and Sportacute is flustered because no one has carried him since he was a young babe and Robbie is confused as of why Sportaflop is so red and– yea… but
> 
> We need more Stronger-than-we-thought-he-was Robbie Rotten"
> 
> All I can say is Yes.
> 
> (Also please imagine Robbie in a Victorian-style swimming costume because I sure as heck was.)

 

 

 

The beach is awful, really. Terrible idea.

 

For one, it’s too  _ bright _ . Cowering in the shade of an oversized umbrella is all well and good except the sun reflects off of the water and bounces right into your eyes and leaves you sitting with your face all scrunched up, squinting blindly into the distance. And the less said about the sand the better. It gets between your toes if you set foot off of your towel for even a moment and you just know you’re going to be tracking sand  _ everywhere  _ for  _ days _ , when you least suspect it you’ll feel it in your  _ shoes  _ and between your  _ teeth  _ and your floor will  _ never  _ be clean again and then your only option will be to  _ move house _ and it’s just  _ awful _ .

 

That’s not even getting into the ocean itself. It’s deep and dark and cold and who knows what manner of awful things lurk beneath the surface? Robbie knows. He’s read the books. He’s seen the movies. He’s not stepping on a sea urchin, no sir.

 

But perhaps the most egregious infraction the beach has committed against him, personally (and therefore of most importance)?

 

He’s  _ enjoying himself _ .

 

The kids had come around, banging on the hatch obnoxiously, shouting down to him that Sportacus was taking them to the beach and they all wanted to know if he’d like to go too, and he’d snapped at them that  _ of course _ he would. (To get them to be quiet.) (Not because the thought of being  _ invited  _ somewhere, being  _ wanted _ made him tear up a little.) (It  _ didn’t  _ by the way.)

 

Robbie had resolved to be absolutely miserable the whole time to make up for it of course, to sit on a towel under an umbrella the whole time with his legs folded up against his chest, to get sand between his toes and the sun in his eyes and to glare the whole time. Maybe he’d even turn up his nose when Sportacus would inevitably try to insist he wear sunscreen; he’d be able to cite the inevitable burn as reason everyone should stay inside and never ever ever do anything ever again.

 

But no. He was having a  _ nice time _ .

 

He was sitting in the  _ sand  _ with a few of the kids, making a  _ sandcastle  _ with a plastic bucket and spade borrowed from Ziggy; there was sunscreen dabbed haphazardly on his nose, Sportacus had smiled at him so sweetly when he’d relented that honestly it was almost worth the waxy feeling coating his hands (totally worth it). Stephanie and Pixel were across from him, trying to build a scale model of the town and Trixie was alternately trying to demolish it while raving about being a 400 foot tall lizard and poking through various things washed up on the shore with a stick she’d found so she could fling it over the wall of the literal castle that Stingy was busy constructing for himself. (The Great Seaweed Incident would not soon be forgotten.)

 

Ziggy was up to his waist in the water, splashing around, water wings and a snorkel and Sportacus standing over him watchfully, holding one of his hands and smiling so enthusiastically every time Ziggy shouted about spotting a fish.

 

It was  _ nice _ .

 

And Robbie wasn’t even going to think about how the sight of Sportacus, in a pair of swimming trunks and sans hat, hair slightly damp and catching the light  _ just so _ and  _ smiling like that _ qualified as  _ nice _ . He wasn’t even going to think about that  _ at all _ . He had a sandcastle to build.

 

The beach was awful, but maybe not entirely bad.

 

“Hey guys! Look at this!” Trixie, ever the portent of doom where peace and quiet was concerned, came bounding over brandishing her stick with a devious little smirk that foretold someone getting smacked in the face with yet more seaweed.

 

Robbie was already frowning when she came over waving the stick menacingly at Pixel; he felt his eyes go wide when he saw exactly when she’d dumped on the little Town Hall building and was currently jabbing with the stick, much to Stephanie's half-disgusted, half-intrigued exclamation of “Trixie! That’s so gross! What is it?”

 

A jellyfish.

 

He’d read the books.

 

“Stop touching that!” He didn’t mean to snap quite so harshly; the kids flinched, and on the inside so did he. “Get away from it,” he didn’t have Sportacus’s gentle yet firm kid-handling tone but he had urgency and imperative, “Don’t touch it!”

 

He was already on his feet and moving by the time he even looked to the water; Ziggy was at the edge now, fortunate but oblivious, tugging off his snorkel and coming to see what Trixie had found and Robbie stomped straight through his own sandcastle, grit between his toes, because Sportacus was still standing there up to his knees in the water.

 

“Get out of th- Sportacus!” He shouts but the elf just  _ smiles  _ at him, that stupid little moustache twitching, head cocked.

 

“Robbie! Do you want to go swi-” Robbie catches him around the waist and cuts him off, hefts Sportacus up over his shoulder without really thinking about it,  _ easily _ , because he’s more concerned with carrying the both of them back to shore as quickly as possible and making sure the kids didn’t follow and raking his eyes over Sportacus’s shins to make sure he hasn’t already been stung because how does he know if the elf would even notice!

 

“R-Robbie, what are you-” Sportacus sounds a little hesitant and that just makes it  _ worse _ . Sportacus is an  _ elf _ , would he even welt? Trixie has the stick again and she’s poking at the jellyfish and Robbie cuts the man off again to growl at her,

 

“ _ I told you not to touch it. _ ”

 

She looks entirely unconcerned as he storms up across the shore, a suspiciously silent Sportacus over one shoulder, and stops just short to glare at her emphatically.

 

“They don’t have stingers, Robbie. They’re harmless.” She says it with such a nonchalant shrug.

 

Robbie stares at her for a moment, then the rest of the kids staring at him like he’s grown a second head, then at said jellyfish, and finally, at Sportacus’s legs dangling awkwardly in his field of view.

 

“Oh. Uh,” he sets Sportacus down in a hurry and clears his throat, very carefully not looking anywhere but at his own feet for a few long moments. “Sorry.”

 

Except Sportacus doesn’t say anything. For too long, and eventually Robbie gains the courage to look up only to find the man staring at him owlishly, stunned speechless, mouth hanging open a little and- Robbie would almost swear the tips of his ears were bright red. Robbie glances down at Sportacus’s legs once more, nervously, “You weren’t uh, stung I suppo-”

 

“That was-” they start talking at the same time and both close their mouths just as quickly.

 

It’s unnerving, the silence that follows, so eventually Robbie clears his throat again and gestures for Sportacus to go.

 

Sportacus still looks stunned.

 

“Oh, that was..I-I didn’t know you were so…” Sportacus makes a noise low in the back of his throat and Robbie’s pretty sure that blush he  _ didn’t  _ see  _ isn’t  _ spreading across the man’s cheeks. “Strong.” Sportacus says it with a weak chuckle; Robbie  _ definitely  _ sees the man’s gaze slide to his arms and he’s definitely not thinking about that too hard.

 

“Oooooooh! Sportacus and Robbie, sittin’ in a tree-” thankfully, Trixie is the portent of distraction as much as disruption.

 

Robbie lunges for the stick and makes to flick the jellyfish at her and the kids scatter with pitched squeals and laughter.

 

Robbie stares after them, glowering, for a long moment before shooting a hesitant glance over his shoulder as Sportacus. Who  _ very quickly _ looks up to meet his eyes and smiles sheepishly, like he’s been caught, and scurries off after the kids with a quick, “Thanks, Robbie!”

 

So. The beach is  _ awful _ , and  _ definitely  _ not so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> (Sport was totally checking out his booty.)


End file.
